


sometimes I find myself thinking of you

by Blepbean



Category: Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, And Ben is just gay, Angst, Background Sammy/Yasmina, Denial of Feelings, Family Issues, First Kiss, Fluff, I kinda edited this one, It kinda takes place before they all go into camp cretaceous, Kenji is angsting about his past, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: In New York, Ben lives in apartment with his mother and works at Dino-Cafe for extra money. Kenji is staying at New York for two months in preparation for his stay at Camp Cretaceous. They meet at the cafe (and after a complicated order later) Ben thinks he’s fallen for another stranger again.When he looks into his eyes he doesn’t see the bright, ocean of blue that stretches that everyone loves. Instead his eyes are softer, calmer, not the rage of storms and seas but it’s a gentle kiss of lazy afternoons cuddled up in blankets. It's the infinite stretching of grey skies that controls when thunder strikes the ground. It’s the fog that rolls over the provinces that his mum grew up in, and he could dig his hands into the mud of the rice fields and know everything that he needed to know about himself.Kenji wants to get close to him. He’s a stranger, however. Can’t strangers know each other’s depths and the lifetimes they’ve experienced just through a simple glance?
Relationships: Kenji Kon/Ben Pincus
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	sometimes I find myself thinking of you

**Author's Note:**

> OMG HI BENKENJI STANS HOW ARE WEEEEE
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

_i’m still trying to learn the hidden depths of you, your grooves and your touches all from a simple glance. rolling grey clouds that dictates and controls the very thunder meeting with the earth that binds the very together. but i don’t think you know that late at night, i find myself thinking of you, and how my imagination runs away from me and carves out an image of your smile from the moonlight at night._

  
  
  
  
  


Ben thinks he’s gonna die if they play another Ariana Grande song. Sammy’s bumping waist and arms with him, swinging her hips as she hums _off the table_ for the fifth time. He rolls her eyes. Sammy just smiles at him. This is how they work at _Dino’s Cafe._

(“It’s an adorable name,” Ben said.)

(“It’s too cheesy,” Sammy replied.”)

Off and on shift. They’ve been best friends since birth, inseparable. They’re complete polar opposites, like fire against water. They’re practically soulmates, knowing each other’s steps well into the future, like how Sammy stops Ben from spilling the milk or from burning himself on the steamer. They have this strange dynamic. Ben keeps Sammy steady. Sammy would push him.

It works, almost _all_ the time. Sometimes chaos swallows all of them and leaves them in stupid situations. Sometimes order leaves them three miles away from their destination. It’s a weird balance, always shifting the centre of gravity.

Ben sighs, deciding to man the cashier as he writes down the customers orders. Words blurring together. Hands cramping. Palms clammy. The work is slowly piling onto him and he’s a wreck of nerves when he puts money into the cashier, terrified that he’ll accidentally put the wrong number. His legs begin to shake and he can feel something sinking inside him

And—

“Darius!” He hears Sammy say behind him, she lunches over the counter and gives him a tight squeeze. Darius winces, but he smiles. 

He can feel himself relaxing just a little bit, seeing the familiar sight of Darius’s yellow jacket and jeans, his dinosaur tooth necklace hidden inside his jacket that isn’t zipped up completely. It glints in the lazy afternoon sunlight that comes through the windows, making his brown eyes glow something similar to a sheen of topaz, or honey. That’s what Dairus used to be, laugher filling the air as it fills and fills, then it knocks down the whole room while he switches the topic back to dinosaurs.

After his dad died, it took his joy with him too. Now Darius is just getting it back, the laughter sometimes a little bit forced and joy not always being clear, but it’s there.

Sammy lets go of Darius, he puts his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels. He gives Sammy side-eye as she rushes to both control the cashier and the brewing. He doesn’t know why he was hired. Sammy was doing probably _better_ without him.

“Hey man,” Darius mumbles, the sunlight gleaming his skin into a deep shade of sepia, with an undertow of red, he opens his palms like unfired clay, tracing the lines of his palm with his thumb.

“Can I get you anything?” Ben says as he fixes the strap of his green apron with the logo of a dinosaur.

“I just came to drop by,” Ben noticed the shift of tone in Darius, awkward, heavy, like he hasn’t used his voice in a long time, “I won’t stay for a while, so you know, I won’t bother you two. I mean you guys must be really busy and—“

“—were not busy for _you_ ,” Ben comments, he goes over to give him a cookie that’s packaged already, double chocolate chip, shaped as a T-rex, “we’re here for you… you know that.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, he fiddles with the tassels, “I know. I gotta go… finish the game.”

“You mean the Jurassic game that gets into Camp Cretaceous if you win? Darius you know that—“

“—I gotta go, really. My brother is waiting for me.”

Then he’s gone, already out the door as the ringing of the bell halts the murmur of casual conversations and steaming mugs as they turn their heads. It stops for a split of a second and Ben thinks that the scent of cinnamon and coffee beans is already out the door.

But the hush of voices is quickly back in. Behind him Sammy puts her hand on his shoulder, a steady thing that grounds him. He feels her quickly shift, hands shaking as she silently screams.

“Sammy?” Ben asks, he gets the hand off him, sighing, “you good there?”

“No…”

“What?”

“So… pretty.”

He adjusts the green pin that says his name and pronouns. When he looks he gets a glimpse of the two people standing in the doorway. But his eyes suddenly meet the one with sunglasses, gleaming a sheen brown with wireframe as they take it off, letting it hang on their button up white T-shirt, loosely tucked into baggy brown slacks. Ben watches them tap their checkered converse.

“Why do they look like Harry Styles?” Ben whispers as he goes to the steamer to clean it up, almost tripping over absolutely nothing.

“That’s Kenji Kon, you don’t know him?” Sammy says.

“How do you know--”

“--He’s the son of the super capilastic guy that owns the Dino cafes all over the country _and_ a few condos on Jurassic world, he’s trying to buy the merch companies as well..”

  
“What?”

“I’ll serve the pretty one, you serve the rich one.”

“Which pretty one!” He half-yells, but Sammy already has her white teeth showing when she her elbows rests on the counter, cheeks slightly flushed. The athlete looks slightly uncomfortable. He can’t wait to tell Darius about Sammy’s crush, he wonders how Darius is going, is he good? Does he hate him—

“Ahem.”

Kenji is already at the counter, scrolling through his phone like he has somewhere else to go. Ben wonders who dresses him, are they some pretentious fashionista that keeps up with the trends?

“Oh… sorry,” Ben shakes his hands, already practising with his customer service voice inside his head, “before I ask your order can I get your name and pronouns.”

He lets the corner of his mouth curl into a smile, he didn’t mess up his words.

“Dude, what the fuck are pronouns. I mean like… I don’t remember anything from my online classes to be honest,” he looks up at his phone, locking eyes for a split of a second before he thumbs over his phone again, “I should ask Brooklynn about this. How do you spell pronouns?” Kenji begins to sound out the letters slowly.

“What,” is all that Ben manages to say.

“Hang on I gotta change my keyboard language,” he puts his pointer finger up.

“I-it’s b-basically whether you go by he/him or she/her or something else--”  
  


“--Oh cool man,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, fixing his hair that Ben wonders how long he took his time to gel to get it up like that, he gets his pen and begins to write it on a piece of paper, “Kenji-Kon-the-coolest-guy-you’ll- _ever_ -meet, also he/him.”

He writes it down word for word, “order?”

“Oh uh… I’ll have a grande soy cinnamon with no-foam, half cafe, half sweet with an espresso shot and…”

The words slowly blur together and Ben writes it down. Every. Word. The more that Kenji goes on his order the more that Ben wants someone to put him out of his misery. He’s still learning the ropes of things, only three months into being a barista and he’s still messing up orders, spilling drinks and sometimes burning himself. 

Now he’s silently freaking out about whether he can still make this order. Sammy isn’t gonna make it. She’s still talking to the athlete. He should really stop her from talking. But then again this is good blackmail.

He sighs, but when he looks back to Kenji he sees how his skin bathes in the sunlight, a cool tone of fawn, reminding him of the soft sands that he dug his feet into. He never really liked that beach. Too _terrifying_ , how the waves came and went, it looked like it was there to whisk him away into the deep oceans.

But Kenji’s eyes, he knows it’s the deep colour of brown. In the sunlight however, it almost looks like warm, liquid gold, a spark in the deep and earthy tones of the cafe, a burst of colour against the dark green ferns and vines that hang from the ceiling. How can anyone’s eyes look like this?

He clears his throat. Then he realises about the complicated order. 

Ben almost burns himself on the coffee machine, almost trips over one of the wires on the floor and almost spills the drink on the floor. His mind is buzzing, nerves making his hands shake with fear. After five minutes he gets the drink done, although the proportions a little bit off which ruins the taste and he’s waiting for Kenji to tell him to remake the drink and—

When he watches him drink it from the cup, hands wrapping around the cupboard he sees a soft smile. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, it feels like something he shouldn’t be seeing.

“Thanks man,” Kenji mumbles, and he slides the bill on the counter and leaves with the athlete. He sighs, just grateful he didn’t mess up the drink. But he can’t shake off this sinking feeling, something that takes over his stomach that fills and fills.

Beside him, Sammy shrieks, “I got her name! I got her name. Her name’s Yasmina!”

**_🦕bullying the white boy group chat 🦕_ **

**_sammy ❤️_ **

_JSKSJSJSJSKZJZJXJX_

**_dino nerd go zoom_ **

_????_

**_white boy of the month_ **

_gonna keep my mouth shut_

_for bribery and blackmail reasons_

**_dino need go zoom_ **

_BENNN WTF_

**_white boy of the month_ **

_I need the money 😔_

**_sammy ❤️_ **

_GIRLLSSSSS_

**_white boy of the month_ **

_gtg do some actual homework_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**_rich kids club 😎🕶 (and yasmina)_ **

**_Running girl_ **

_I kinda like the cafe that we went to_

_I might go there after runs_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_Is it bc of sammy???_

_She looks cute_

**_Running girl_ **

_no she was loud_

_And annoying_

_and talks a lot_

_And she talked about about her ranch at home_

_And other stuff_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_Wow_

_You really are stubborn asf no wonder why we broke up_

**_Running girl_ **

_you were literally looking at him and doing that thing where you angle your chin to show off your jawline at that poor boy_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_wdym? I do that all the time_

**_resident blogger/unboxer/whatever_ **

_Gay people 🙄🙄_

**_Running girl_ **

_you’re literally bi_

**_resident blogger/unboxer/whatever_ **

_yeah_

_anyways Kenji what do you think of the outfit I gave u?_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_I hated it_

_I want my khaki shorts and pink shirt back_

**_resident blogger/unboxer/whatever_ **

_How are u rich but have the worst fashion taste???_

_you’re a walking struggle wtf_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_you’re mean_

**_resident blogger/unboxer/whatever_ **

_ily babe ❤️_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_❤️_

**Running girl**

_Wtf_

He shoves his phone into his pockets when he gets back into his apartment and throws the cup into the bin. Kenji really should’ve gotten three of those drinks. Or like, a dozen. His apartment sits at the highest building of the city, it’s a cascading jungle of concrete buildings and roads and cars that look like tiny ants. He walks close to the window, putting his hand on the cool glass.

He’s never really been this high up before. This is cool.

Kenji slumps to the nearest coach, taking off his shoes and resting his legs on the coffee table that’s completely made of glass. His dad got him this apartment to rent for his two month stay here in the U.S, all white walls with priceless antiques and marble statues, pretentious abstract painting on the walls. The couches being black leather and touches of grey on the kitchen counter stops him from gouging his eyes out from all the white in the apartment.

He just has to put up with this for two months, so it's cool. Totally cool. He spends his day waiting for his dad to come back as he lounges on the sofa after he changed into a comfortable set of sweats, watching TV, trying to make food (which ends horribly) and facetimes Brooklynn.

“Sup,” Brooklynn answers. Kenji slumps over the kitchen counter, pressing his cheek against the cold grey marble while he snacks on pocky sticks.

“Heyyyyyyyy, whatchu doing dude.”

“Putting on makeup in the bathroom.”

  
“Why?”

“I don’t know, bored.”

“Coolio.”

She puts down her makeup brush and sighs, putting the hair tie between her teeth as she puts her hair in a ponytail, “ok something is happening. It’s like what happened your dad forced you to wear that ‘cheap’ rolex—”

“—It was _five hundred dollars_ ,” he takes a strawberry pocky stick, pointing at the camera, “that's like a crime, I thought it was fake. You can relate, right Brooklynn? You’re like an influencer, unboxer, whatever rich.”

She finishes putting on her hair in a ponytail and picks up a makeup brush, “I’m not rich _, rich_. I’m like the upper middle class. Don’t remind me when you tried to ‘outrich’ me but ended up making a fool of yourself in my IG story.”

“I told you to delete it.”

She dips into her makeup palette, “men with their superiority complexes.”

“I don’t think that’s how you word it.”

She doesn’t answer, she’s taking instagram pictures from her other phone. He sighs. She’s not gonna pay attention to him for a while. He tries to think of the positive. This is Kenji’s first time outside of Japan, so he might be able to go sightseeing (if he can sneak out properly) in New York. Try out different foods. Buy new clothes (with Brooklynn).

There’s also the Camp Cretaceous thing he has. 

“You’re coming with me to the Camp… Cretaceous thing, right Brooklynn.”

“Yeah, it’s for a massive sponsorship. Of course I’m going. Already got the VIP tickets and everything.”

“Sick, anyways how was your--”

Brooklynn curses as she looks at the cameras squinting before rolling her eyes, “sorry, my manager’s calling.”  
  


“Wait!”

  
The call ends, leaving him playing with the strings of his hoodies as he chews on pocky sticks, staring at the black screen. He catches a glimpse of his face, and how the gel on his hair is slowly coming undone. It reveals smooth, silky strings of curly hair. He tries to get it standing up. But it only comes more undone, his hair something akin to a flurry of clouds amidst the simple blue sky.

He doesn’t remember the last time he went to a park with his dad. He’s too busy. They used to go to look at the clouds back when mum was around. The truth is, Kenji sees love before everything has happened as this magical fairytale that’ll come as a gust of wind that’ll knock him off his feet when he looks into his partner’s eyes.

But after the divorce settled and the shouting stopped, came along the uncomfortable silences that hovered over the dining table like a calm before the storm, waiting for the topic of papers and lawyers to tumble in. Kenji now knows that love is something that can fall apart at the seams no matter how _hard_ you fight for it, because at the end of the day it’ll all end in tears and packed bags, watching his mother leave as his father fills the house and his room with more staff and more expensive things to keep him busy.

And now, he’s sixteen and is in New York. But there’s something that _twists_ inside him when he goes over his trip to the cafe, and how the boy that served him. His eyes the colour of lazy rainy days inside and earl grey steaming from his cup, or how he acted, a bit terrified and closed off, still getting the hang of customer service.

Kenji groans to himself out loud in the middle of the kitchen. He’s on a ‘vacation’, no time for big thoughts and that _boy_.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ben thinks of love as this blinding thing, explosive and so full that it hurts his chests sometimes. It’s yellow, dripping with saturation because that’s what his first crush wore. He doesn’t remember his name anymore, just another faceless memory, but he _always_ wore yellow shorts. And he remembers how his blonde hair fell into soft curls, turning into liquid gold as he stepped into the sunlight and casting his blue eyes into expensive sapphire, deeper than the oceans that roars of storms.

But he’s had other crushes as well. The boy in his PE class that smiled at him when he scored a goal for the first time. The other boy who he saw in the streets a few weeks ago and his mind spiralled into late night conversations and stupid date ideas. Then there was this other guy who was his lab partner.

Etcetera.

Ben’s heart isn’t enough to fit in love. The lonely and ramshackle world doesn’t stretch far enough, it’s too small, no space to fit in his fantasies of swaying in the kitchen while they almost burn the casserole. He doesn’t know where to keep his love, he loves too much. So instead he just lets it… _go,_ watch the yellow thing dim as it flies away into the distance.

He wishes for god to take him out of his gay misery as he watches the boy that he served yesterday walk in the early morning while Sammy is at the back helping with storage. He sees him, walking with his hands in the pockets of his grey hoodie. He should look _bad_ in his sweats and white air force ones, but the way his black hair falls into lazy soft curls that goes over his forehead.

He looks… good. When he _shouldn’t_ look good.

“Hi,” Ben breathes out shakily.

“Hey.” Kenji says, like he’s breathing air back into his lungs. He’s really in it now, sinking deep into layers and layers of his eyes. How Kenji’s eyes look almost _ablaze_ in the sunlight. Ben could name the grooves, the crevices, the tiny explosions of earth-tone galaxies in Kenji’s eyes if he could. His eyelashes catch glimpses of the golden light, glistening in the cafe.

He thinks he’s gonna die.

Kenji clears his throat and Ben _almost_ jumps.

“C-can I get you anything?”  
  
Kenji sighs, scratching the back of his neck—which is _adorably cute_ —while he says, “I’ll have your recommendations, man.”

“Oh… uh, the drink isn’t in the menu but it’s something that I make when I’m down—”

“—Epic,” Kenji pulls out his wallet, “how much is it?”

“No, no it’s…. It’s on the house,” Ben smiles at him, “y-you don’t have to pay, really.”

“Okay,” Kenji says, and he notices how his tone shifts to something more quiet, soft. His face lights up like the sun, the corners of his mouth curling. If Ben could, he would let time halt to something slow like how he pours his honey into his cup of tea, swirling it carefully as he mixes in warm oat milk and a dash of cinnamon.

Suddenly his shoulders aren’t tense and so closed off, because it finds itself being more relaxed. It’s like he’s been doing this forever, and it’s as simple as breathing while he mixes in the cinnamon, chai and vanilla syrup into the warm drink. He wraps his hands around the drink, taking it to the front of the counter while he carefully puts the milk at the top.

“It’s a… swan,” Kenji chuckles, “that’s sick, nice latte art.”

“I wasn’t… trying to do a latte art,” Ben sighs, putting the lid onto the drink, “I can barely do anything like that. It’s a weird drink,” he watches Kenji take a sip, “I put like cinnamon and like chai and--”

He watches Kenji’s eyes light up, then _melts_ as he sighs, “this is… this is so fucking good.”

“Thank you,” Ben says, rocking on his heels while he looks at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing to ever exist, he feels his cheeks flush, “it’s not really that good.”

“Can you… can you premake one of them? Remember the athlete that came by yesterday? Yeah she’s cool but she’s kinda in a bit of a slump lately because she lost this track competition or whatever so like…” Kenji pauses, making weird gestures in the air, “it would be sick if you could make some. I’ll pay you double—

“—No… p-please keep your money,” he turns his back to make another, “I’m sorry that my coworker was harassing her.”

“Nah bro, it’s chill. She’s…” Kenji pauses within the middle of the sentence.

**_rich kids club 😎🕶 (and yasmina)_ **

**_Running girl_ **

_KENJI KON_

_WTF DID YOU DO_

_GONNA PUNCH YOU_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_???_

_Dude what are you on about_

**_resident blogger/unboxer/whatever_ **

_yas plz dont punch people that’s so lame_

**_Running girl_ **

_SHE GAVE ME THIS DRINK FOR FREE_

_WHAT SORCERY DID YOU DO_

_DID YOU BRIBE THEM_

_DID YOU JUST BLOCK ME??_

_KENJI ANSWER MY PHONE CALLS_

**_resident blogger/unboxer/whatever_ **

_No wonder u guys broke up_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


As Ben looks at his phone from Sammy’s messages saying that she just visited Darius he thinks over how their little ‘friendship group’ formed. Sammy and him first, Darius slowly sneaking himself through tiny windows of _hello’s_ and _hi’s_. Soon they become inseparable, even though they’re at different stages of life they always meet at the back of Dino Cafe, Darius talking about dinosaurs while Sammy listens, sometimes butting in as Ben delivers them a hot cup of cocoa.

They’re inseparable.

Ben sighs, taking off his apron as he gets back to the apartment. It’s late at night, every muscle in his body is protesting as he makes his way into the kitchen, turning on the light as he grabs a cold bottle of water from the fridge. The bright white light washing his skin to the colour of porcelain.

When he looks back at the living room, his mum is there, looking tired with her Masrani Global uniform on. She ties her hair in a low ponytail, heaving a sigh.

“Mum?”

There’s a pause, “I managed to sneak you a spot into Camp Cretaceous.”

Everything.

Is.

Tumbling.

_He remembers how he was still a child, just six, knowing nothing and just sitting at home and picking up lego blocks while his face lights up so bright that it overtakes the flickering lights above him._

“Mum—“

“—you’re a like _child_ , Ben Pincus,” she mumbles, “grow up, you’re leaving in a week. You can take your fanny pack…”

Everything is slowly blurring together, words slurring and he finds himself standing sttill, frozen. He can’t go. There’s something _terrifying_ about the unknown, and being stuck in an island is a sudden shift to him. Ben likes control, a set rules and schedule to his life like a rhythm. It took him a week to touch the coffee machine and another to stop screaming when it steams. Now he’s leaving the comfort of daily life to somewhere else, a dangerous island full of dinosaurs.

He’s not thinking clearly, because the next moment his feet are carrying him and he’s running out of the door. The ground is full of emotions and raging hormones, a raging sea that he's treading through with the rolling thundering clouds above. The boat is shaky, Ben thinks he isn’t gonna get a hold of it. He’s never done this before because the next thing he knows he’s feeling the midnight air of New York on his face.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kenji doesn’t really realise how Brooklynn and Yasmina came together. It was a slew of events, from Brooklynn being an influencer and her social media being close to his dad’s interest, meeting one day to discuss Jurassic World merch sponsorship. They met and they were a mirror image of each other, trying to _outdo_ and _out-rich_ each other, playing pranks and stealing each other’s phone that ends in signing and groans.

Somehow, they’re similarities became a sticky bond and they’re like twins at this point. It’s weird, somehow realising that the pressure of social media on Brooklynn and Kenji’s loneliness being ‘cured’ by money was something that kept them together. But him and Yasmina was… different. She was at his old school. She was a runner. She was cute. He asked her out.

They were too _dumb_ and too _stubborn_ and couldn’t _communicate_ and too _closed off_ that ended in a lot of sighing and groaning and a _thank god finally_ from

Brooklyn. But Kenji thinks it’s better like this, they still get along, although a little awkward at times. 

Kenji sighs, a pit in his stomach that eats away at his loneliness in the apartment. His dad isn’t gonna get home anytime soon. He puts on his blue hoodie and sweatpants, grabs a random pair of shoes as he rides down the elevator. He stares and stares at the text messages from the group chat. There’s one voicemail from his mum.

He listens to it.

He wipes the tears from the back of his hand as he heads outside, air smelling of gas and cheap pizzas. Traffic and people overwhelm him, filling up the air as he squeezes between people. Everything is so _new_ and scary, a sudden shift that he’s still trying to process. Tokyo wasn’t like _this_ loud and this _chaotic_ , Tokyo wasn’t this damp and depressing, with the bright neon lights reflecting on puddles.

He doesn’t know where to go, so he heads to the Dino Cafe.

He meets the boy that served him on the steps, head down, silently sobbing.

“Uh…”

Ben quickly looks up at him, he can see how his eyes are reflecting the bright lights, a bit red with his eyebags that are paper-like. He looks brittle, fragile, ready to fall apart within a single touch.

“Sorry,” Ben chuckles, “god I’m _such_ a mess. Would you uh… like to come in.”

“I thought the cafe closed after 9 pm,” Kenji deadpans. Ben just smiles at him. He gets the keys from his pockets, hands a bundle of nerves as he struggles to get into the hole.

Kenji sighs, “dude, let me try,” he says, resting his hand on the back of Ben’s hand. It’s surprisingly warm and soft. There’s a zip of _warmth_ that goes from the veins on his arm and to his chest, blooming into his chest. He bites his lip, facing away from Ben to hide the red on his cheeks as he inserts the key with a _click_.

Everything comes to life.

He watches Ben close the door behind them as he turns on the light, he can see how he’s still wearing his uniform and pin, just without the apron. Kenji lets himself stare in awe, the intricate wooden beams on the ceilings that rains down green ferns and vines, circling the ceiling lights shaped in dinosaurs (“It’s cute,” Kenji comments.) 

Everything is in grey hues and wooden floors beneath him, chairs with blue cushions which are on top of tables. He can imagine how the cafe is at the morning, bustling with the smell of coffee that reminds him of mother’s caffeine addiction. There it is, the familiar feeling of _home_ ; she always liked these cafes where it’s full of warmth and love.

It’s a rare sight in New York.

“I wanna learn how to make coffee,” Kenji blurts out loud, “that sounds cool.”

Which is how they find themselves behind the counter, laughing and chuckling while Ben barks orders at him

and Kenji manages to mess up the steamer for the fifth time. He notices how Ben is more relaxed, hands no longer shaky and breathing evened. When he looks into his eyes he doesn’t see the bright, ocean of blue that stretches that everyone loves. Instead his eyes are softer, calmer, not the rage of storms and seas but it’s a gentle kiss of lazy afternoons cuddled up in blankets. It's the infinite stretching of grey skies that controls when thunder strikes the ground. It’s the fog that rolls over the provinces that his mum grew up in, and he could dig his hands into the mud of the rice fields and know everything that he needed to know about himself.

Kenji wants to get close to him. He’s a stranger, however. Can’t strangers know each other’s depths and the lifetimes they’ve experienced just through a simple glance?

“Why were you crying?” He asks, wiping his hands with a towel, “I-if you’re cool with like… answering or whatever.”

He sees how Ben’s shoulders tense and how he traces the lines on his palm. His shoulders relaxes a little bit, like a weight is slowly leaving him, “you know when you’re like so used to life, and the structure of a schedule and days. And you find comfort in that, only for _something_ to come and knock down your own safety bubble.”

Kenji nods.

“Yeah, it’s something like that,” Ben sighs, he goes to finish the two drinks they made, with Kenji’s horrible latte art, “it’s really stupid, if I’m gonna be honest. I guess I’m weak, or like a scaredy cat or something.”

Kenji takes a step close to him, imaging the weight, and how he carries himself, “if it makes you feel better I think you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met,” he takes the cup of coffee from the counter and takes a sip, it tastes of warmth, like coming back home as it the sensation spreads throughout his body. When he looks at Ben something flutters, he wants to cut off that feeling.

He doesn’t.

He lets it wash over him. Because that’s what it means to be human. To be _alive._

Ben takes a sip of his drink, “you think I’m the bravest person you know?”

“Yeah,” he puts down his drink, Ben mirrors it, “I think I do anyway. I’m like 100% right all the time anyways.”

He gets a soft chuckle from Ben, “what do brave people ask, then?”

There’s a smile on Ben’s face, it’s the type of smiles that you can’t get off. It’s stuck there, you can’t wipe it off or hide it with your drink. Kenji tests the waters, moving an inch closer, “brave people ask questions like: _can I kiss you_.”

There it is. Right in the open and he’s waiting for Ben to say those four, stupid, _cheesy_ words that hold so much weight that it feels _impossible_ at times. But here he is, Ben, stepping into his face and looking at his eyes.

“Can I kiss you,” he says, just above a whisper.

Kenji answers with a soft peck, barely a kiss. Just two lips touching without the feeling of warmth that flows through him. But something in him surges, so he digs just a little bit deeper like how he did when he was visiting the provinces, just under the dirt to gain the secrets of the land.

In this case, it’s their bodies.

They press tightly together, with Ben wrapping his arm around him while Kenji’s hand is on his waist. He kisses him, realising how soft his lips are and how there’s the lingering taste of strawberry from chapstick. He likes this. If someone is staring from the window all they would see is two bodies pressing close, the worries of life melting away all from touches and the way they kissed. It’s two teenage boys diving into the deep end, not knowing the depth of waters, or how many cracks are at the surface.

Because under the lights and the beating of arms, all that matters is how Kenji is striking Ben’s cheek so carefully like he might slip away from him. When they pull apart, Kenji forgets how to do anything but rest his head on Ben’s shoulder and laugh and sway lazily.


End file.
